Compassion
by headless-nic
Summary: Just a little one shot, using P&P characters, to show that behind each and every story that has been published here on this site, there is a person deserving of respect and with a story all of their own.


**Compassion**

Her mobile hummed quietly to indicate the arrival of a new message. Eagerly, though she was tired to the bone, she pressed the small button on the side of her phone, the screen lit up brightly in the dim light of her chamber, and almost impatiently Anne DeBourgh-Bradley typed in her pin to reveal that it was a new e-mail which had roused her from her slumber. When she saw that it was a message from ffn, she almost squealed with delight and scrambled off the couch with some difficulty. Her legs were shaky and more than a few steps at a time were out of the question. And still, with getting a review to her stories being clearly a highlight of the day, it would not do to read such a message in such an undignified position as being curled up on the sofa. Straightening her blouse and linen trousers, both more practical than elegant, she made the few unsteady paces over to her wheelchair and sat down in it, rolled over to the window to pull back the curtains and, at last, with a hammering heart and some anticipation read the review she had received.

It was not what she had expected, or rather not what she had hoped for. The joy and pride which usually would follow reading such a message did not hit her as it normally did, moreover, it was replaced with sadness and mortification. Her hands shaking, it was difficult to re-read the words that all but screamed at her from the display, hit her in the face like a literal slap.

' _Just give it up, you pathetic excuse for a human being, your talent is about as big as a nit and about as annoying and unwelcome. Who do you think would want to read such rubbish? Oh, and by the way, your characters are OOC anyway, EB would never do such a thing!_ ' stood there in glaring letters, which slowly began to swim in front of her eyes, as Anne could suppress her tears no longer.

Her writing had always been her safe harbour, her retreat when everything in IRL was becoming too much, and that was often. Since her mother's death a couple of months ago, her spirits had been exceptionally low – well, no, that was perhaps an understatement, her depression kept her to herself most of the time as a matter of fact. But lately, these kind of messages, which turned up more and more frequently had turned her sole retreat into something akin to hell's antechamber. As yet she had not told a soul about this, it was silly anyway to take them to heart, wasn't it?

In her desolation she reached for the old and battered bear which had sat in the corner of the window-seat, looking as forlorn in his shabbiness as she felt. It was silly, really, after all, she was well past the age when a cuddly toy could give comfort, and still, who else had she to turn to? Crying into the brown fur of her old beloved teddy, a soft knock sounded on her door, but she felt unable to answer. Elizabeth Darcy entered nonetheless, peeking her head around the half-opened door and when she saw the tear-streaked face of her husband's cousin, she stepped in fully, walking swiftly over to the small and frail woman to kneel down in front of the wheelchair and wrap her arms around her in a heartfelt gesture.

"Oh, Anne, what is it?" Lizzy asked softly, pushing one of the curls of Anne's short-cut hair away from the crying woman's eyes.

"Nothing, I am just being silly," Anne sobbed, tonelessly. "I got a bad review, that is all."

"But you had bad reviews before, and they have never made you cry," Elizabeth answered, her face showing concern and bewilderment.

Unable to answer, Anne handed her phone over to her friend and relative. Elizabeth read the message and gasped, her face assuming an angry expression now.

"This..., this is horrible! Who would do such a thing? Really, Anne, can you not report this troll?"

"The person wasn't logged in, so no, I cannot."

"Typical! Hiding behind their anonymity... - Effing cowards!" Elizabeth fumed, and oddly enough her words brought a little smile to Anne's pale face, which quickly faded again.

"Is anything the matter, Lizzy?" she, at last, asked when she had composed herself enough to do so.

"No, I just wanted to see if everything was alright," Elizabeth's voice was slightly sheepish now and Anne understood every word which hung unspoken in the air between them.

She was a burden. Someone her cousin and his wife had to take care of. The sickly cousin no-one wanted, but whom no-one dared to tell that she was in the way. When she had moved in with them, after her mother's death and the subsequent sale of her childhood home, for all her mother, in her conceited arrogance and insistence that they were descended from a line of noble families, had left her, had been debts, her cousin and his wife had been married little more than half a year. It had been a rather rocky romance between the two at first, but it had worked out, and Anne was happy for them, though it kind of hurt, that she herself would never have anything akin. Who would want a woman such as her? She was painfully thin, her face pale, almost translucent, safe for her freckles, her chin pointy and her hair a curly red mess, which even at its current length was hard to manage. There were dark circles under her eyes and her lips were colourless. And then there was her failing health and this constant sadness, which surrounded her and which even irritated herself. How Elizabeth and William could always be so nice to her, was beyond her. She did not deserve their kindness.

The mobile hummed again, but the eager anticipation she normally felt had been replaced with dread. She did not dare check her messages again. As if sensing her discomfort, Lizzy, who still held the phone in her hands, with a look at her, asking for permission, opened the message, after Anne had given a slight nod. Elizabeth paled, and from the way her hands shook, it was clear that the new mail was about as pleasant as the last one had been.

"What does it say?" Anne whispered, needing to know, while at the same time not wanting to.

"' _Get a fricking life, for heaven's sake, and stop writing. It's not as if you have any talent for it anyway. Gods, you must be one hell of an ugly bitch to write such trash. You call this a story? Its a load of trash, that is what it is. You can neither keep the pace nor can you keep your characters in character of the original you so desperately try to imitate_ '," Elizabeth read with a shaky voice, her eyes flashing dangerously.

Pulling Anne into a tight embrace once more, she whispered determinedly: "I will sort this out, I promise. This rat will die from its own poison."

"But how? As far as I can see, once more the review was an anonymous one."

Sighing Elizabeth let go of her and got back to her feet.

"Yes, and that is what these bastards are counting on. Is there no possibility to block anonymous reviews?"

"I can moderate them, but would still receive them. In short, all I can do is stop them from being published for everyone to see."

"That will not do! Are there not any other sites on which you can post your stories?"

"Many, and most of them don't permit guest reviews, and yet it is like with an old pair of pyjamas, they might need changing, and still one is attached to them somehow because they are so comfortable."

Elizabeth smiled at the comparison, before replying: "Yes, that might very well be, but now these pyjamas have started to scratch and are comfy no longer. Come let's have a cuppa."

Thinking her cousin's words over, Anne nodded thoughtfully and then followed Elizabeth into the kitchen, steering her wheelchair over to her usual space at the kitchen table, the only one where no chair stood.

It was later in the evening, when Anne, both her cousins sitting next to her with a solemn mien, opened her new account at another, more secure fanfiction-site and deleted all of her stories on ffn. At first, it had seemed to her like defeat, but then both William and Elizabeth Darcy had convinced her, that the only ones losing anything, were the trolls and haters, and so the decision had been made and her heart had suddenly turned surprisingly light.

 **A.N.: Just a little one shot to show that behind each and every story that has been published here, there is a person deserving of respect and with a story all of their own. I know the messages seem to be a bit over the top, but, unfortunately, they are, in some cases, pretty close to what some receive. Some authors have left this site because of this or have left their story unfinished, I dedicate this story to them for, in my opinion, their leaving was a great loss to this site. – So:**

 **Stay nice, be courteous and polite, even in your criticism.**

 **Love**

 **Nic**

 **P.S.: After reading many of your very lovely comments, I feel obliged to add, that the story was not inspired by my own experience, but by what others have suffered. Still, I felt the need to address this more serious topic and this is the result. Nic**


End file.
